


Deeds, Not Words

by JTR1234



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, I obsess over details like weapons of choice, Kill Houses are Cool, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-08 09:41:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14102646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JTR1234/pseuds/JTR1234





	Deeds, Not Words

**_(Kill House: A training facility for soldiers to practice close quarters battle techniques with their small arms in a enclosed space.)_ **

Brigitte was confident, she had to be confident because Fareeha Amari was going to run this kill house with her. Brigitte shifted inside her normal gear while Pharah wore a standard Overwatch Battle Dress Uniform (BDU), with matching chest plate, harness, and large ammunition pouches. The skilled soldier had forgone her usual rocket launcher for an old heavy pulse rifle that she had synced to her Abom brand combat glasses, as her primary weapon. The plan was simple, bust open the door, Pharah throws the flashbang, Brigitte enters shield up, Pharah takes out targets on right, Brigitte on left. Proceed as normal through entire house till all targets down.  
The pair stacked up against the wall with Brigitte in front. Beside her was the sturdy metal door leading into the kill house. Brigitte tightened her hand onto her flail, waiting for Pharah to strike her shoulder with her hand. With a satisfying slap, Pharah’s hand connected and Brigitte swung her flail into the steel door ripping it off its hinges.

  
Pharah’s hair brushed against her cheek leaving the distinct smell of vanilla as the tall Egyptian woman tossed in the flashbang.

Flashbang! Brigitte shouted in her mind.

The magnesium/ammonium nitrate explosion was powerful. Enough so that Brigitte felt it in her chest. The rookie Overwatch Agent couldn’t have asked for a better queue.  
With a steady exhale, Brigitte brought up her translucent shield and swung herself into the doorway. Eyes darting across the room she spotted four training drones, all of them too stunned to open fire, having been programmed to mimic human combatants. Brigitte pushed on, Pharah clearing the door and firing two bursts behind at her assigned targets. Returning her eyes to her dazed targets, Brigitte thrust herself forward knocking both of her targets to the ground and with a swing across cracked the two targets in half with her flail.

Brigitte turned to give Pharah a congratulatory quip only to see the Egyptian beat her to words.

“Clear.” Pharah deadpanned looking at Brigitte expectantly.

“Oh-shi! Clear!” Brigitte exclaimed, embarrassed she forgot.

Pharah gave the Swedish Engineer a simple thumbs up back with a bemused half-smile. Brigitte’s eyes wandered to Pharah’s targets, two scrap piles beside empty shoulders.

_Two headshots. Of course, her aim is as good as her mothers._ Brigitte thought to herself as Pharah pointed to the next door. _Why do you have to be so perfect?_

Armor clinking against itself the rookie made her way to the next door. Inspecting it quickly she could tell by the anchors protruding around the door frame they had reinforced this one. Pharah waved at Brigitte holding up her hand.

_T-M-Explosive?_ Pharah hand signaled using a combination of sign language and military hand signals.

_Oh! Thermite Charge!_ Brigitte realized before vigorously nodding in response.  
From the back of her armor, Pharah pulled out the rolled up charge. With two hands she unrolled the rectangular object to the door and then got behind Brigitte again. Brigitte gave Pharah a thumbs up to confirm she was ready. Pharah depressed the plunger and after a long hiss, the thermite cut through the heavy door with a bright light that Brigitte did not dare look into. Eventually the light dimmed and the charge blew what was left down and the pair moved in.

* * *

 “So, did I do well?” Brigitte asked her new partner and commanding officer in the large training warehouse.

“Besides a few minor hesitations, you exceeded my expectations,” Pharah said with a small smile. “Have you considered using a sidearm in conjunction with your shield?”

“Well I have but I wasn’t really trained on-wait what were you expecting?!” Brigitte protested, her eyes going wide.

“I meant no offense!” Pharah defended putting up her hands. “But tight corners and enclosed spaces are not Reinhardt's strong suit.”

“Oh.” Brigitte realized, hunching over a little in embarrassment.

“Funny, it turns out I have reasons for the things I do, think and say.” Pharah chuckled, placing her hand on her hip.

“I’m sorry Fa- I mean Captain!” Brigitte said trying to stand at attention.

“You can call me Fareeha or Pharah, but not Captain.” The Egyptian assured the young rookie. “Makes me sound like my Mother.” Pharah sighed, placing her mug under the coffee maker.

With a few moments to consider either option Brigitte decided. “I’ll call you Pharah then.”

“Overwatch is less a military unit and more of a Family anyway. That’s what my mother used to say anyway. So, while don’t overstep your bounds, don’t feel the need to address rank all the time. It’s a thin line but you’ll be able to find it.” Pharah advised, pouring herself a cup of coffee with a push of a button.

“That seems like a _very_ thin line.”

Pharah sipped her coffee. “Welcome to Overwatch, where we all walk tightropes.”

”Sounds like how Dad described it. Except his version had a lot more expletives.” Brigitte chuckled out.

Pharah let out a loud laugh. ”Sounds like him.” her eyes tilted over to Brigette. ”Now about that sidearm…”


End file.
